Protegee
by InTheShadowOfSignificance
Summary: The tables turn when Joker abducts a child to toy with Batman. Chaos does not allow for bonds with other people, and a dangerous ultimatum means the end of the clown prince or his 12 year old captive. Swept up in a game he does not intend to lose, Joker delights that the two pawns cannot co-exist unscathed. (Eventually dark)
1. Protogee

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to any copyrighted material or characters otherwise affiliated.

Warnings/Notes: Based entirely on Heath Ledger's portrayal of Joker in "The Dark Knight." I apologize for any elements that come across as out of character.

* * *

Gotham's mall was painfully empty most weekday mornings, today was currently no exception. The white tile floor seemed to stretch on endlessly, with only a handful of people shuffling about. What oozed life and loud music on the weekends had been reduced to a few small crowds. Some teenagers walked side by side in the kind of group one might attempt to push through if the mall was busier. They talked and giggled about skipping school, stuffing half-eaten pretzels into purses before entering trendy shops. Keeping a slower pace behind them were mainly retirees trying to seek out last minute Christmas presents for grandchildren far, far away.

Of course there were anomalies, a mother and her small children in a double stroller, kids running about unsupervised, stepping with extreme caution on specific tiles that had not been touched by imaginary lava.

Cashiers almost begged for excitement, something to help pass the tedious hours between opening and after-school rush. Some popped bubble gum while others took advantage of working the first shift alone, trying on clothes while the place was decidedly dead.

Aside from the faint sound of laughter or the occasional wail from a dejected child, (it's not _fair_) it seemed that desire would not be satisfied.

* * *

The slam of boots against the door rang out like a gunshot, giving way to maniacal laughter, which echoed through the vast and open space. In a vision center just inside the main entrance, a frantic employee ducked under her desk, ignoring an older gentlemen who had stopped by to have his glasses adjusted.

"Atatatata." Came the mocking pitch of the Joker's voice as he slid into view, purple coat sweeping behind him as he walked briskly to where she hid, "Everyone in the open!" He roared, then, suddenly calm, added, "You know the drill boys!"

Henchmen adorned in clown masks cocked guns, chasing every patron into the open walkway in front of the mall entrance. At the sound of the Joker's voice any person who'd been stupid enough to argue or struggle promptly quieted down and slumped to the floor, most trembling or crying.

"Lot of _brat-suh _in here today." The villain noted, making his way up the line of people as his men hastily collected chump change from the registers. He stopped in front of a sniveling child, he guessed about twelve, who was clinging to his equally terrified mother. He bent down to the boy, chuckling, and grabbed tuffs of his curly red hair, pulling his face from his mother's shirt. The child went completely white and at this the Joker dipped his head back, laughing harder. "BOO!" He exclaimed, throwing the kid flat onto his back with a nasty thud.

He shook his head, "You know." He spoke out in a high and inquisitive tone, "I'm disappointed." He added with a certain note of finality. "You come to the mall for a little fun and there's not a thing to do." He put a hand around the pole of a toddler ride situated at the entrance, sliding an effortless circle around it before clacking the heel of his shoes to the ground.

"Soo" He mused, "Let's play a little...game, I want you people-JOEY!" Suddenly his voice was fierce enough to throw even the grown men into hysterics, flinching and shielding their faces with trembling hands. A gun shot was fired, and the masked man who had been struggling closer to a curvy blonde fell in a bloodied heap to the floor. The young woman, barely sixteen, sobbed openly into the arms of a slightly taller friend.

"Boss..." He rasped out, clutching his wounded inner thigh.

"It's a shame that didn't make target." The clown prince noted before continuing to scold the man, "We all know you're a pig Joe, but have some clas-suh." He snapped.

"Sorry." The burly man choked out, still trying to collect himself.

"Then stand up and be a man!" The villain growled in tones dangerously low, turning his attention to the crowd of hostages. "Now then...the game." He put a mocking hand under his chin and gave an exaggerated 'hmmm' as if trying to collect his thoughts. "Somewhere in this mall." He turned abruptly and made a flamboyant sweeping motion about the area with his arms, "I have a...business associate. He and I need to have a little...chat." The word was alive with a note of eerie laughter. "What time you got on your watch there, grandpa?" He suddenly asked an older man, kicking him sharply in the side.

"F-five to ten." He sputtered, hoarse from shock and pain.

"Perfect!" The war-painted man exclaimed, "For every five minutes he's not here, someone will die." He stepped menacingly closer to the small crowd of victims, watching them huddle and scramble closer to one another, some pushing bodies between themselves and the switchblade he had pulled from his coat pocket.

"Ready boys?" He called out enthusiastically, taking a gun into his free hand with a toothy smile, "Aaaand...go!"

At the mention, men clad in black spread out in every direction, darting through stores and tearing down displays. Though the Joker didn't often make a game of search parties, (he much preferred blackmailing people into submission) there was plenty of fun to be had when the guest of honor showed his face. A knowing smirk graced his features at the thought, and he laughed madly as he counted down the minutes.

"Tick tock." He taunted, waggling a finger in a pendulum motion as couples clung to one another. Three minutes, two...he pocketed the gun that had given his men signal to start their chase, giving him a free hand to select his target. "Sixty seconds." He sang out as he grabbed a child's arm and yanked her frigid body to his own. "This really isn't my fault y'know." He cooed at her as the cool point of metal met her throat.

He tapped the fingers of the arm around her body against her pale skin, growing increasingly impatient. "Threee." He squeaked in a hushed tone, pressing the blade tighter to the struggling girl's neck until it just barely broke skin. "Twooo-AH" He jerked his body, making a shallow, stinging cut across the flesh below her chin. The scrawny brunette had swung her heel backwards against a rather sensitive area with force enough to knock most men to their knees.

As she felt the blood begin to seep from her wound, the instinct to survive overwhelmed her. She let out a guttural cry and shoved, with all her strength, against his chest. For a second he fumbled with the knife, still bent at an awkward angle to cope with the pain of her previous blow.

"You've got fight in you." He observed as the knife drew itself against her skin in the struggle, "I _like_ that." He pulled the knife back from her neck and twisted her messy hair around his hand, yanking her to the floor with one sweep of his arm, "But." He continued, his tall form suddenly upon her, knee pressed hard against her stomach, "I'm a man of my word." He drew back the blade, drinking in the fear of her expression, the changing pitch of her wheezes as tears began to form in her eyes.

"Just do it." She choked out, snapping her eyes shut. She refused to beg, in twelve years of life she'd learned to gain control by any means necessary. She couldn't help being overpowered, the man was easily twice her age and size, but she would die with dignity.

"Hey." The elder spoke, gripping her hair tighter, "Look. At. Me." He ordered in a tone that offered no other option but to obey. Green irises met brown. The amusement in his eyes flickered for a moment, his smirk breaking into a wide, yellowed smile that seemed to stretch the skin of his scars.

"Boss-"

"NOT NOW!" He snapped, not bothering to look back at the only hired man left standing.

Blood ran down her neck, some spilling onto the white tile, most creeping down across her collarbone and soaking into the fabric of her dress. She seemed only afraid of dying. He could sense her fear, _smell_ her fear...but she was not a coward.

"Let her go." A suited man said dryly into the silence. "Take me and let her go."

"Oh no, no, no, no." The Joker chided, turning his attention from the bleeding child to the man who had kept him waiting. "You see detective, I'm, uh, not a very giving man." He continued, rising to full height while fiercely gripping his hostage.

"I'm not playing your games-"

"You're not in a position to make those statements, now are you?" The graying man flinched as a gun was thrust against his head, gritting his teeth in an attempt to fight back his fear.

"This is a message." He began, "Hey-don't. fuck up. my speech. _Dollface_." He warned the smaller form as she jabbed an elbow into his broad chest. "The longer Batman stays in hiding, the more..._fun _I'll have with the police force." He looked directly into a security camera, "Wave sweetcheeks." He prompted, nudging her harshly.

Hesitantly she waved a hand in the direction of the device, not daring to look into it. "You know what to do." He told the masked man, who immediately pulled the trigger.

As his body shook from the volume of the young girl's scream, he chorused it with laughter. Before she could register anything but the deafening sound of the bullet making impact with the detective's skull, she felt herself being swiftly drug out into the fading sunlight of morning. The next several minutes came in flashes. The stifling heat of a white van, the metallic scent of her own blood, smearing against her arms as she tried to pry his hands from her.

"Don't struggle kid." He told her as he latched her body against his own, "It's pointless." He emphasized the 'p' as he reached up a fist, punching the camouflaged button of a detonator on the van's wall.

Through the metal of the closed doors, Leah couldn't see the explosion, but the force of impact sent her stomach into her throat. As her ears were consumed with ringing and her body wracked with vibration in combination with her own tremors, she emptied it. Bile came with each violent wretch, and she half expected to be stabbed in the back for voiding herself.

To her surprise, she was met with more of his laughter, "Please." She whispered hoarsely, her thin frame weak from exertion, "Let me go..."

"Oh shush, shush, shush." He purred, covering her mouth and nose with a white rag, "We just started playing..."

Despite herself, Leah began to fall into the haze of unconsciousness, lingering somewhere between dizziness and oblivion before letting her head drop limply, her hair still in his hold.

The Joker had only planned to capture Batman's attention, but, for reasons not entirely clear to him, the opportunity to keep a pet, especially one so competent in the face of fear, was too golden to pass up.

He gave each of her bony cheeks a love pat, laughing endlessly.

Maybe, if she was interesting enough, he would make her a sort of protegee, maybe Batman would break his one rule if chaos had two agents. He frowned despite himself, fully aware of the imminent disappointment that came with having expectations for people. Nonetheless he clutched the child, stowing her away in hiding for whatever varying uses, or methods of torment came to him.

Because, if nothing else, she was his now.

* * *

Author's Note: So...uh...yeah. After reading several amazing Joker centric stories in this fanbase I rekindled my obsession with his character, I realize there are entirely too many stories involving the Joker and an OC, but I have no plans to make his relationship with Leah romantic. At all. This is also the first time I've written the Joker, so any feedback is appreciated.


	2. Choices

**Chapter 2: Choices**

* * *

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to any copyrighted material or characters otherwise affiliated.

Warnings/Notes: Based entirely on Heath Ledger's portrayal of Joker in "The Dark Knight." I apologize if any elements come across as out of character. Leah is entirely my own.

* * *

She awoke in a fog, her limbs heavy and throbbing. It took a great deal of effort for her to move at all, propping herself up on one elbow before succumbing to dizziness. She blinked repeatedly to clear her vision, anxiety mounting in her gut.

"Look alive _sweetums_." His eyes flickered over her crumpled form until she sat up to face him.

A curtain of tangled hair fell over her face as she fought with the lingering sourness in her mouth. She took a breath of stale air, eyes focused hard on the wall behind his head. She felt his glare before she could bring herself to meet it. An invasion of brown, two orbs cutting like the blade that'd kissed his scars.

She subconsciously lifted a hand to touch the dried blood on her neck, nervously peeling at it with her remaining fingernails. (Two on her right hand had been worn down in the struggle, staining her fingertips a rusty color.)

"Cat got your tongue?" With the weight of his stare gone, she was consumed by panic and a brief flash of purple. A hand patted her right cheek in a quick motion, the back then connecting with her left. "Word to the wise." He spoke. Her eyes widened as she began to register how close he'd come to her, she was mentally drained from their earlier encounter and hadn't noticed him come across the room in a haste that overturned his seat. "When I speak, I expect an answer." His voice was dangerously low, a guttural sound that crawled under her skin.

"I want to go home." Her whisper was anything but bold, but she managed to keep her voice from shaking.

"You wanna go home?" His voice seemed to jump six octaves, "_too bad_."

Reality took its shape. In a moment of courage she moved her gaze away from his own and tried to make out any traces of familiarity in the room. It was hauntingly bare, concrete walls splattered in odd places with something she couldn't make out, stretched for what she guessed was ten feet on all sides. His chair, folding metal, had scratched the cement floor and now lay at an awkward angle behind the two of them. She glanced up. A light bulb hanging. No fixture.

"Hey." She jumped at the sound of his voice, scolding herself immediately.

"Yeah." Her throat was so dry it was barely a whisper. Soon, she expected, he'd be raving '_Look. At. Me_.' But she was distracted by the dark silouhette of her reflection in the metal chair, hallowed by the light. Her mind began to wander, how far had he taken her? What would he do with her now?

"Ya know." He grabbed her cheeks roughly in one hand, squeezing hard. She bit back a cry of pain that died a low, gurgling sound in her throat. "I can see this is gonna be difficult." His eyes sent a twinge or raw, crippling fear down her spine. "But-" the voice, still rasping, had jumped to a tauntingly higher pitch, "I like a challenge."

"What'd you want?" She spoke up, unable to form any other thoughts.

"Speak like you wanna be heard." He emphasized the 'k' in a way that made the word two syllables, spraying her with beads of saliva. He chuckled as she flinched, face still firmly, painfully, in his hold.

"What." She tried again, swallowing in an attempt to form coherent syllables, "Do you want?"

"Eh heh. Don't-_don't_ start out like that sweetheart. It'll getcha in a lotta trouble. See I have plans for you, lots of plans, but those are for me to know." He giggled, releasing her cheeks and pushing her backwards. She felt weak, but wouldn't allow herself to fall over. She had to seem stronger than this, be stronger than this.

She held his eyes: a deadlock. Without saying a word she posed a final question, 'what now?' Even her captor did not seem to know. He spent a few long moments studying her face, plain, girlish features were set apart by large, almond shaped eyes: olive green. His contemplative expression quickly became a smirk, he stood to full height, yanking her to her feet in one swift motion.

She tried to stop herself from being drug off so easily but she was hopelessly overpowered, across the room, out the door, opened with such force that it collided with a bang against the wall, and into a strangely...extravagant hallway.

"Hey boys." They entered an almost normal looking living room behind another crashing door, like the balding regular in a bar that clanks his glass high in the air with anyone willing to listen to his woes. All eyes were upon the pair of them, she immediately took back the thought. These people were not the annoying drunks that stumbled into parking lots at all hours of the night, many of them were giant, brutish men with square features...glaring menacingly, hungrily, at her. "I want you all to meet little..."

"Leah." She provided, trying to keep her tone even, trying to think of anything aside from the overwhelming fear of being pinned to the ground and ravished.

"Well, ain't you pretty." A man to her left had abandoned his seat on the sofa to take a few steps closer to her.

"Careful Jason." She gasped as her abductor pulled a blade from his pocket, advancing on the blonde man with her still forcibly in tow. "We shouldn't _touch _what isn't ours." His voice dripped venom, and the man who was almost bold quickly backed down.

"S-sorry boss." He sputtered, taking a hesitant step away from the taller form.

"Yeah." The blade had made it's way to the man's cheek, cool metal trailing harshly over his skin, leaving a faint line of blood, "I thought so." He turned his attention to the rest of the assembly, who had wisely turned off the wall-mounted television upon his arrival. "Anyone else got something they wanna say to Leah?" He dared someone, anyone, to make a move. "Nooo? C'mon at least be welcoming."

She expected an awkward, mechanical chorus of 'hi' but was met with further silence and the raising of a few hands as if to wave at her.

"I SAID-" he roared, grip inadvertently tightening around her arm, "Welcome the girl."

"Hi Leah!" Instantly came at her from all sides.

"It's...hard...to find good help these days." The comment, though directed to her, was accompanied by a murderous glance at his mobsters.

"Hello." She said into the silence, she knew it lacked emotion, but in truth there was nothing left to give. She had never felt so exhausted, all she could manage to do between worrying and fighting tears was calculate a way out.

"Before we go any further." He loosened his hold, tones still housing remnants of disgust, "There need to be some...ground rules. Nobody here so much as looks at her unless I tell you." As it always seemed to, his voice implied a desire for someone to test the notion of his authority, and, as usual, his men left well enough alone. "She's my own little play thing, and I'm gonna have one hell of a time not sharing with the Bat." He laughed loudly and uproariously into the stillness.

The surrounding men shared a brief chuckle at the thought. It almost felt scripted.

"Keep half an eye on the news." He pocketed the blade, abandoning his hold on her to cross the room for a drink, "If Batsy makes a move, I wanna know." Words of affirmation came from more than a dozen mouths.

From somewhere behind her she heard an almost timid whisper, and felt something being prodded against her thigh. She chanced a look at the man who'd approached her, and at the eye contact he repeated, "Want a cigarette?" Somewhat confused, she looked down to the object in his hand. Sure enough, the slender cylinder was what he had extended earlier.

She cautiously moved to take it from him. At twelve years old she had never smoked a day in her life, but she felt like it might be a rite of passage among people like this, and didn't know what else to do but accept it. She spent a second examining the thing as she reached for it, trying to determine which end went in her mouth. She wouldn't find out today.

"No." Came the sharp, quipping voice of the Joker, "She doesn't." He delivered a quick blow to the man's head, causing him to drop the offending object.

The instinct to run suddenly came over her, but she dismissed it. Though it would be her only chance before he took her in vice grip, she knew she'd be scrambling blindly about a hideout she'd seen two rooms of. It would almost certainly end in recapture.

Fingers traced lightly over the bruising skin on her arm, no doubt from his previous hold on her. She shuddered at the touch, "Whatsa matter kid?" He took a handful of her hair and twisted it roughly around his fingers. "Nervous?"

The room seemed frozen, no one spoke or moved. She expected to be struck for her silence, but she was instead pulled just as suddenly and vigorously out of the room. This was her chance. Her eyes darted around the hallway, this, like the room they had just come from, was well lit and surprisingly decorated. He turned to the right, but she managed a glance behind them. To the left of the living area, back two doors, there were a flight or stairs leading down. She frowned. Unless there was a basement, they were on the second floor. Second story windows would be difficult to climb out of. It would require time, and if the Joker was anything, he was quick.

She returned her attention to their current path, they had passed four doors and come to a foyer with a large, carpeted staircase. _Good. _She mused to herself, _it must be the first floor. _Her hope was quickly dashed, he approached the staircase, pulling her hair harshly. She set her feet in front of it, not budging.

"Move." He growled lowly, instead of holding her ground, she almost sobbed. As brave as she tried to be, as much as she knew that the shortest distance to an exit was right here, right now, in this moment, she didn't want to challenge him. She remembered the blade in his pocket, his full intention of killing her at the mall. She swallowed hard to compose herself, and ascended the stairs. "Thaaat's a good girl." He purred from above her, "Things are gonna be uh...easier...if you do as you're told."

She kept swallowing tears, nodding her head, "Okay." She murmured. The top of the stairs became another long hallway. He made another right, and, to her dismay, walked all the way to the end of the hall. The last door on the right side opened with a brass, old-fashioned looking key that shared a pocket with the switchblade.

The door, painted white, swung open to reveal a bedroom. The colors were surprising muted. Stark white carpeting and white walls met a dark wood bedroom set in a finish she had seen stores describe as 'espresso.' A king sized bed adorned with black and white comforter was the main feature of the room. Beside it on either side were dark, vintage look end tables. Against a wall opposite the bed was an equally dark wood entertainment center, the top portion holding a large TV, the bottom portion a series of closed compartments. What they held, she did not want to know.

The rest of the furniture was equally as run-of-the-mill, nothing exceptionally threatening aside from a painting, probably custom, that hung on the wall above the bed in tones of black and white. a woman with her back to the viewer reaching to touch letters mounted on a wall, her hand dripping blood, the only element of color in the piece, a deep red gush. She didn't want to know who the woman was, didn't want to think that he might know her, might _have _known her.

She shook her head to clear her mind. There were two doors in the room, she guessed to closets. Her eyes followed his body in its movement, not realizing until that moment that he had relinquished his hold on her hair.

"You should probably..." He drawled out the syllables as he fished around for another key. "Take a shower." As he opened the door to the bathroom, she glanced behind her. There wasn't an enormous distance between the two of them, and the stairs were terribly far away, but something in her stirred, once again urging her to run. She took a hesitant step back, testing how muffled the sound of her footsteps would be before deciding that there was no time to be sneaky. Now or never. Fight or flight. An ultimatum. Stay where she had no idea what awaited her, and hope the most sinister criminal in all of Gotham would not torture her at his every whim, or try, desperately, to make an escape.

Silently, she made a choice. In an instant she had thrown herself out the door, barreling down the long hallway, thankfully carpeted, allowing for more traction. She passed the first door, the second. She could hear the vicious voice behind her, yelling fierce, furious things. It did not deter her. _Please... _she prayed _please..._

He was fast approaching her, though she was moving so quickly she felt like flying. Her legs were impossibly shorter and couldn't cover as much distance as his. She felt his tall form closing in as she came to the railing that created a short barrier between the hallway and floor below. She could think only of what it would mean to be caught. Torture, a slow, sickening death. She put both hands on the wood, pushed to hoist herself over it, and let her body begin to fall.

Her mind was a frenzy of questions, an overwhelming rush of adrenaline and hysteria, how much damage would the fall do? Could she outrun him? Was there anywhere to run to? Questions. Panic. A distant voice at her back, and then -

_Nothing._

* * *

Notes From The Author: Feel free to leave any feedback you may have, critical or otherwise. Thanks for reading.


	3. The First Day

**Chapter 3: The First Day**

* * *

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to any copyrighted material or characters otherwise affiliated.

Warnings/Notes: Based entirely on Heath Ledger's portrayal of Joker in "The Dark Knight." I apologize if any elements come across as out of character. Leah and police chief Bradley are entirely my own. Be aware of choice language and references to bodily injury.

* * *

Sobbing.

The only sound he could make out while kneading fingers against his temples was the increasingly desperate sobbing of the family in front of him. Some cries were muffled; others high pitched shrieks of hysteria.

"You can't just sit here." The woman had taken to pacing in front of his desk, it was all she could do to hold her wailing toddler and form words in her own constricting throat. "She's my little girl, you have to _do_ something."

He paused, taking in the severity of the situation, trying to assess how he should proceed. In truth there was no easy way to say what needed to be said, "Ma'am." He blew out a long, terse breath, his fingers tensing slightly as he did so. He needed a drink. A cigarette. Something. "I can only imagine how you must feel, right now we've got a search party doing all they can to find your daugh-"

"They don't _need _to find her, god damn it you know who she's with! You know that freak has her!" She choked back another sob, burying her son's head into her neck to quiet him. Her voice, hoarse from tears and anger, was little more than gravel. "I just want you to do what you fucking people do best." She wiped futilely at her eyes, "Draw him out and get my baby back!"

The graying chief of police seemed to be at a loss for words. His brows knitted together in frustration. He was at odds with himself, trying to keep calm and relay what condolences policy would allow, while battling with the part of himself that felt sympathetic and utterly _sick_ for the mother in front of him.

"Jim." His voice was strained and tired. Beside him, a suited man who had remained standing and silent, nodded his head and opened his mouth to address the distraught woman. Chief Bradley knew the family was his jurisdiction, his end of the bargain in all this, but he felt his resolve crack every time he looked at the picture the girl's mother had laid on his desk. The child was all smiles, brown hair pulled back in a braid, eyes glowing for the camera. If she was a head taller, she could be his little girl. He looked down briefly, then set his gaze on the wall ahead of him. As a twenty year man he had endured nearly every heinous act of cruelty Gotham had ever known, especially at the hands of the Joker. Over time, with the destruction of churches, hospitals, and elementary schools, he had become somewhat desensitized to it all. But this... This was a whole new level of horrific. As much as he despised himself for the thought, all he could hope for-outside of finding the child scared and hunkered down in an alley-was to get a positive ID of the body in what remained of the mall. Though he could never let it be known, death was certainly a better fate than the alternative of being _his_ captive.

Jim Gordon's voice pulled him from his thoughts, forcing him to face the present reality, "I'm sorry, but this case can't go public until we can at least confirm she's with him."

"How can you say that? She's not home with me, she's not with any of her friends, where else would she be? The owner of the house across the street said she saw Leah go in, saw him drag her out before the explosion, what more do you need?!"

The taller man was ridiculously practiced under pressure, and managed to keep collected, "Many of the remains at the site of the explosion were too damaged to identify, no one can say for sure where your daughter is, or if she's still with us-" The stoic suit flinched as she crumbled to the floor. The only thought worse than her daughter in the hands of a psychopath...her daughter gone, forever. "I am so sorry." He fought to keep his voice even. _Damn...what am I to do here? It's the truth isn't it...She has to realize it's a distinct possibility. I don't like it either but... _"Even the witness expressed that she couldn't be sure the child he'd taken was your daughter. I can't put the general public in hysterics on this kind of lead. We need concrete evidence to make a public association between Leah and Joker...until then we will continue to do everything in our power to see that she's recovered."

"You're..." She was a hyperventilating mess, a heap on the floor barely managing to keep her trembling hands clutched to the child she could keep safe, "You're letting her be tortured..." Every word was interrupted by a sharp, wheezing inhale. The woman gathered herself to her feet, finding strength in the instinct to protect her younger four children, who she swept to her side automatically. "If she dies..." Her shaking voice was lowered almost incomprehensible, "If he kills her because you were too busy trying to cover your asses to save her, I will make sure this entire town _never_ forgives you."

Gordon opened his mouth and promptly clamped it shut, as much as the human being inside of him wanted to accommodate the woman, send officers to every corner of the city in search of an elusive hideout, he knew he could not. They weren't dealing with a run-of-the-mill child abductor, there was no negotiating their way out of this. If Leah really was with Joker it would be known soon enough. Until then, they were helpless.

"Ma'am we'd like to have an officer outside your home at all times, just as a precaution until we know for sure." Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, "We'll have someone escort you home. If nothing else, we can make sure the rest of your family is safe." The only reason Leah's siblings had been allowed in the room during the discussion was for the sake of their own safety. No one really thought the Joker would come for the rest of them, but he had never done something like this before. One life hanging in the balance was devastating enough. Gambling with four others wasn't an option.

"So that's it then..." The woman clung to her daughter and three sons.

Gordon, thoroughly shaken and disgusted by his own callousness, looked her dead in the eyes, "The second we know something." He stepped around the desk to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly, "We'll contact you."

* * *

His large, gloved hand clutched the fabric of her dress, pulling it taut around her neck. For a moment he left her dangling, drinking in the sight of her thin, gangly body in suspension. She was infuriatingly quiet. Her breaths were not heaving in fear and exertion, her chest not swelling with tightness at their every violent pull. She hung limply in his hold. The anger in his features quickly became amusement. He laughed dramatically, endlessly, at his own exhilaration. He felt the adrenaline that had just begun to peak, dipping his head back gracelessly to let out more laughter.

"Whew..." He drawled the word, he hadn't been this, excited, about something since his face-off with Batman. It wasn't the chase that thrilled him, no, he'd been through hundreds of those, cat-and-mouse was almost...mundane. It was watching her throw herself over the railing, plunge to certain death without a moment's hesitation, that really got him off.

In an effortless tug he pulled her body over the railing and, dropping the blade he had withdrawn at the start of the chase, adjusted his hold. He positioned her body in one arm, bridal style, using his free hand to push her messy hair out of her face.

"Well-luh..." He imagined her features painted black and white, "You really are...interesting." He looked to the weapon he had abandoned, slinging Leah over his shoulder, he bent down to retrieve it and headed quickly back to the bedroom.

As his boots sunk into the lush carpeting of the room he grunted, kicking the door shut and locking it behind them. He began to hum to himself, softly at first, then loudly, almost violently, while moving to the bed. He strummed his fingers on the end table, still holding her like a rag doll to his chest.

"And. Down. You. Go." He let her body fall carelessly onto the cushioned surface. He stared at her in a brief reflection of composure, then, just as suddenly, began pacing the length of the bed, letting his fingers trail against the fabric of the comforter as he did so. He timed his steps to the rhythm of her breathing. Body rising on inhale, down, falling with exhale, back. Rise and fall. Down and back.

As the minutes ticked into hours he changed position several times, every so often abandoning various spots on the floor to sit cross-legged on the bed. Currently he shot her a sideways glance from his perch against the wall and began to approach. Through the black fabric of his curtains he watched night settle in, cascading colors of sunrise disappearing beneath a veil of darkness. At her side, he pushed her head to the left, then the right, patted each cheek several times, calling her name in grating, elongated vowels.

In the time spent waiting for her to wake, his mind had run wild with the possibilities of having a hostage, a child so deliciously empowered by fear. The things he could do to her were endless, the steps he could take to manipulate her young mind as slow or as quick as he chose, as public or private as he so desired... It was grand what he'd managed to do, but truly realizing such made him all the more...impatient.

Fed up with watching an unmoving body, he entered the bathroom, the door was still ajar from when he had unlocked it earlier. The little shit had been so fast there was no time to close it before coming after her. He clenched a fist in a momentary flash or anger at her defiance, then, laughing softly under his breath, spread his fingers in a wide grip around a clean washcloth.

He looked down at it for a moment, then poked his head into the doorway to click his tongue at her motionless form, "Now don't you go anywhere." It was an annoyed, satiric statement. For a moment he let his hand rest on the door frame, then turned to the double sink to wet the cloth. He let the water run, it's noisy flow impairing his thoughts. _How fucking long does it take to sleep off a scare... _He laughed aloud. _A near-death experience. _He removed his gloves and pocketed them, checking the temperature of the steaming water. Hot. Almost as hot as he could stand. He ran the cloth under the faucet until it was saturated, then turned off the tap and wrung it out.

By the time he had crossed the room to Leah it had cooled down considerably in his hold, but was still warm enough for this. He pushed two fingers against the child's forehead, tilting her head back to examine the shallow, scabbing cuts on her neck. Head positioned under a pillow, he removed his hand and traced the line of dried blood, scraping a short nail across the crusted once-liquid before bringing the cloth to it.

He pressed the white fabric to the offending stain and set to scrubbing it off her skin. When he came to the messy cut, he was no gentler. He scratched and worked until all traces of red were gone, effectively opening the cut at the base of her chin. Frowning, he rolled the washcloth and pressed it firmly to the bleeding wound, then moved to the bathroom for some gauze.

"Now if I was me...and I am..." He mused while rummaging quite impatiently through a medical cabinet on the wall opposite the toilet, "Where would I put...ah, aha, ah ha ha ha..." He held the white roll, twirling it on his finger, "Found you." Also armed with medical tape, he moved back into the bedroom, stopping dead at the first sign of her movement.

"Mmm..." She moaned, lifting a hand to her head. It felt the like the world was spinning. The washcloth he'd pressed to her neck had rolled onto the bed when she moved, and she was drawn to the red splotched fabric almost instantly, "What...happened?" Memories from earlier that afternoon came flooding back to her. The chase, the jump... She felt faint.

"Well, good _evening _sweetums." His tall, broad form was upon her in seconds, before she could stop it, a scream tore from her throat.

"Get away from me!" She shrieked, trying to will her tired legs to move, to kick him at the very least.

"Cute." He said curtly, laying the supplies on the bed and immobilizing her head and neck, "You still think you can fight this." He pressed the abandoned washcloth, which had left a wet spot on the comforter, against her neck again, sopping up the blood. "Y'know fear is a funny thing." He yanked her head back, looking her in the eyes as he applied the gauze with pressure. "Some people are immobilized by it," he was laughing as he spoke, "they can't stand the idea of it." He finished dressing the wound and climbed over her body, pressing his hands against her shoulders and allowing the full force of his weight to rest on them. "But thennn there are some people, like you, who are almost empowered, almost _gratified_ by it." He leaned down, his face inches from hers, breath hot against her cheek.

She stared up at him, confused and afraid, "Please..." She mouthed.

Suddenly he moved his face a more comfortable distance from hers, his hold still paralyzing her, "So tell me Leah, do you feel brave?"

She whimpered a bit at his closeness, completely overwhelmed and bewildered by her current predicament. Had the Joker...nursed her back to health? How long had she been asleep? She felt dizzy. "I...I..."

He shoved hard against her, "You, you..." He mocked with a low, growling laugh, "You were really gonna do it weren't you? You should have seen yourself..." His voice was a low, rasping baritone, "Most people," he licked the edges of his lips, tongue trailing over his scars, "most people are cowards in their final moments." He swallowed, prying one hand from her shoulder and resuming a familiar hold on her cheeks. "You were like...an animal."

"Just stop." She was moaning through his hold, trying to find the courage to move her free arm, use it to slap him, to cover her ears, to do _anything_ to relieve the anxiety in her gut. She felt her heart throbbing in her chest, it's beat rhythmically invading her ears in a sickening, dizzying rush.

"Look at me..." She had squeezed her eyes shut, "LOOK. AT. ME." Her eyes met his, "Most people would've begged, would've tried to weasel their way into any opportunity of avoiding harm." His gaze seemed to overpower hers.

"I don't care." She spat, shaking her head as much as his hold would allow.

"Oh but you do Leah, _you really do_. Because _you_ didn't beg, you flung yourself into a ten foot drop trying to run when you knew you'd still never get away." He released his hold on her face, "Because your instincts told you to do what you had to do, to push through the socially accepted conformity that is how _sheep_ respond to fear. You went...primitive."

"I just wanna go home-"

He smirked, "Don't be ashamed kid." His free hand had retrieved a treasured blade, "In here," his wild gaze locked on hers, the knife beginning to cut a hole in the fabric above her heart in erratic movements, jerk, rip, jerk, rip, "We're all animals."

Terrified, she looked at the ceiling, then back into his eyes, the man was completely unreadable, especially to someone with little social skill to begin with. "What're you gonna do to me?" She murmured.

He blinked at her, anger stirring somewhere deep within him, "Well I could've let you die, could've let the fall damage an organ and empty most of your blood into your stomach-" He was spitting his fury now, "But seeing as I haven't." He was suddenly eerily calm, "It's a safe bet you'll be _alive_ for a while."

"I mean..." He watched redness rise in her cheeks, her face contorting with tears she had held back until this moment, "Look if you're gonna...hurt me there..."

His eyes flicked to the hole cut over her prepubescent body, to the long, bony legs she had clamped shut so fiercely they trembled, and he began to understand, "Put your head between your knees kid." He moved his body off of hers completely, "Not even I'm that sick."

In that moment they had reached a kind of understanding. She didn't know enough of her captor to say he was true to his word, but she felt in her gut that she might be spared at least that agony, which is so often done unto women by men. She swallowed, unsure of herself.

"Nothing hurts." It was all she could think to say while rubbing pitifully at her eyes, face still red with the shame of letting him see her cry.

"Nothing should hurt kid." She couldn't sense anger anymore.

Silence for a long moment, then, "Did you fix me?"

_Christ. This is not going to work. This is not going to fucking work. I should've let the kid maim herself. _"Quid pro quo princess, I talk to you, you talk to me." Nothing in his voice suggested this was an offer, "And sit up." He spat, suddenly irritated.

Hesitantly she pushed herself up off the bed, positioning her back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest to cover her exposed flesh, "So..."

"Where do you come from?"

"Gotham?" She was confused by the question, he'd taken her from the local mall, it wasn't like the city had tourists.

"I know that." His voice was flat with an edge of impatience, he tried a different approach, "You have parents?"

"Just mama, and four brothers and sisters."

"Is your dad dead?"

"No, he hasn't been around for a while, since Olivia was born."

"Is that a sister, details kid, details."

"My family's like this, it's kind of hard to follow. Mama met my dad when he left the army, it was just the three of us until I was five, when she had Olivia. After she was born the two of them fought a lot, and he ended up leaving. She never wanted him at the house after that, I don't know if he ever tried to come around, but eventually he went back into the service and left Gotham altogether. She met Michael at Olivia's first birthday party, it was just her and I as 'guests' in the park with a cupcake and a candle, but he came up and they started talking. Before I knew it he was living with us. Eventually they got married and had my brothers, Judah, Matthew, and Ethan but the two of them were always fighting over us kids. I don't think he ever wanted more than the two girls because he was never really a father to us, even before the others came. We never called him dad. We were never close. When Ethan was still really small he came by a few times to see us, but we think he's moved now."

"Broken home, how typical." He sounded bored, "You miss him?"

She shook her head, "He wasn't home much to begin with, when he was it was always to watch TV in the living room, we weren't allowed in when he was watching something because we were too noisy. Most of the time he stayed with Mama and didn't bother much with us kids, especially the girls. It's like I said, we were just never that close."

_Deadbeat fathers, spineless mother...modern families are so warm and fuzzy. It's like the fucking 1950's revisited. _"Five kids." He clicked his tongue, watching her closely, "And you're the oldest, but you can't be that old."

"Twelve." She replied without him having to ask.

"Ah." He opened his mouth to say more, but her question stopped him.

"So." She prodded, "Did you fix me?"

His eye twitched at the inquiry, his hands clasping and unclasping, "I grabbed you." He provided, "Before you'd even fallen out of arm's reach."

Her next thought came spilling out before she realized she had formed it, "Why?"

"You're of no use to me dead." He spat it so harshly she flinched away from him. "Besides, I like the way you tick."

She didn't try to make sense of his statement, she was too exhausted to try. She didn't know what to expect from one moment to the next, first he was almost civil with her, asking pointless questions about her family that couldn't be of any use to him, the next he was roaring at her for some unknown offense. Where did she go from here? It honestly didn't seem like he was going to hurt her, he had just bandaged her cut for god's sake...but even still, even still his temper was frightening, his personality so unpredictable that just to sit in the same room as him unnerved her. Only when she met his eyes again did he break the silence.

"Hungry?" A blunt question.

She blushed a bit at the noises her stomach was making, hoping they were quiet enough that he hadn't heard them. Her family never had plenty, but there was always something to be foraged, even with Mama working later and later into the evening.

"A little." She admitted.

He rose from the bed, "Don't get any ideas," he chuckled at the thought of what her next escape attempt might entail, "Else I won't be very forgiving." He began to exit the room, intent on being quick regardless of how fragile he knew the girl's state was. As he closed the door, his brown eye peered at her through a slit of open space, "And Leah."

She met his eyes, trying to keep herself from stammering, "Yes..."

"You really oughta _smile_ more." He slammed the door with a cackle, locking it and disappearing down the stairs.

When he returned he set a plate of chicken and various side dishes in front of her, extending a glass of water to her still trembling hand.

"Thank you."

"Don't spill it." He stabbed a fork into his meat and chewed savagely. For a few moments she did little more than watch him.

"Eat." He instructed in stern tones, "The fun begins tomorrow."

* * *

"This is a list of the officers we've lined up to guard the house." The patrolmen followed her up the stairs into her messy home. Normally she'd be embarrassed by the scattered toys and dirty dishes, but tonight they were the least of her worries. "There are also phone numbers for people who deal directly with amber alerts and missing children. If we hear anything relevant from the tip line we'll let you know." He continued on and on as she laid her youngest two, three and fifteen months old, on the couch, propping each head against an arm and covering them with a warm, fleece blanket.

"Thank you." She managed, she knew she should offer the man coffee or something, but in truth she wanted him gone. She was so disgusted with the entire police force she'd sooner spit on them than look at them.

"It's better if you keep the older ones home from school for a few days, until we can get some things straight. I can have Bradley call your place of employment and let them know you need time off-"

"No." She was choking back tears again, trying to hold it together.

"I'm sure your boss will be understanding with everything that's happened." He tried awkwardly to offer her comfort, with only a year under his belt, he was hopelessly and obviously inexperienced.

"That's all well and fine." She said, trying to maintain some shred of civility, "But my kids have to eat." She ran a hand through her younger daughter's hair, the same deep brown as her older sister's. "My children are tired..." Every second in his company was an almost unbearable struggle.

"Right..." He was fumbling with the car keys, "For security purposes, we just need to know where the children will be while you're at work."

"I don't know." She almost lost it, "I don't know, if I can get paid leave I'll keep them with me. What's it matter anyway? If he decides to come in and take them you won't be able to do a damn thing about it, no one will. There were dozens of you people when he blew up the Elementary School and we see how those poor kids made out."

It was an impacting blow, the young officer looked down at his feet, wiping sweat from his brow on the long sleeve of his uniform shirt. "Normally in situations like these we suggest you leave the city-"

"I can't leave my baby!" She snapped, her back still to him.

He let out an exasperated sigh and relented, "Bradley will call." He said, "You'll talk." He muttered a final apology and left her to pile the children into her queen sized bed.

The two of them weren't all that different from one another in the wake of the tragedy, just two people with a job to do and little means to accomplish it.

She locked the door and pacified small minds into sleep. He got in his car and sped off into the night.

During the next several hours parent and police force agonized, lost sleep, grieved the realization that, at the end of this, things would never be the same again. And in the morning both did the only thing they could to help Leah, they went on.

* * *

Further Notes From The Author: I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge that, while this story is obviously completely fictional, tragic events such as these happen every day, in the scheme of things it may feel like they fade away, replaced by new cases, new worries, new struggles, but every child forced to endure this, every family reeling from the cruel, unthinkable act, is not forgotten. The end of this chapter implies, "life goes on" but by that I do not mean to dismiss the horror of child abduction, rather to commend the bravery of all those mourners, whether they be family members, law enforcement, friends, who find the strength to keep going.

Feedback of any kind is and will always be greatly appreciated, as I've said, my knowledge of the Joker is limited so if there's something that's coming out way off, don't be afraid to let me know. Thank you for reading.


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